


a dance with you

by xenoglossy



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 23:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12046164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenoglossy/pseuds/xenoglossy
Summary: Hardly anyone visits Sugar in the basement. Hardly anyone, that is, except the Queen.





	a dance with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kadma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadma/gifts).



Time passes slowly in the basement, or maybe not at all. It’s not that Sugar minds this, exactly. The basement was created for her, or she for it. It’s where she belongs, even if in the past she was willing enough to leave it. Nothing is scary in the basement; nothing is corrupted. It is safe. It is home. It’s only that it gets so boring. Nothing ever happens down there, and hardly anyone comes to see Sugar.

Hardly anyone, that is, except the Queen. When the Queen first began visiting Sugar (how long ago was it?), Sugar assumed that she was simply being a responsible monarch, visiting her subjects personally to see how they were doing and if they needed anything. Easy enough in Zone 0, at least, to speak to every living thing there--the Judge comes sometimes, and Zacharie, but mostly it’s just Sugar, and three or four people at a time seems to be an absolute maximum. The Elsen have never been inclined to wander in.

And so of course there was no reason to believe that the Queen’s visits were personal--except that she returned so often. (At least, it felt like often.) So Sugar has begun to wonder what other motive the Queen might have. Could she be bored, too? Surely not, with a realm to rule--and what entertainment could she get out of talking to Sugar? Sugar has so little to contribute to their conversations. Nothing in the way of news, really, unless Zacharie has come by and done or said something worth repeating. The Queen, meanwhile, tells her about what has happened lately in the other Zones, mainly the goings-on of the various factories. It’s not something that changes very dramatically from visit to visit, even with the trouble caused by the specters; the ghosts and the glitches might have been interesting once, briefly, but things have settled quickly into a new status quo. The specters are not creative.

Still, Sugar loves to hear about the outside world. She especially loves to hear about the amusement park. Once upon a time, when Sugar still ventured out, she spent many happy hours riding the pedalos there. (“I hope I can ride one again someday,” she tells the Queen on one occasion. The Queen, blank face as unreadable as ever, changes the subject.) When the Queen speaks of the place, she can almost imagine herself back there, almost feel herself buffeted along by the man-made currents of the pool of plastic. Almost. The Queen seems to pick up on this quickly, and begins mentioning the amusement park during every visit, regardless of whether anything particularly interesting has happened (and more often than not, nothing has).

Sugar tries at first to count the number of times she has met with the Queen, to mark out time that way, but she soon loses count; the visits all blur together with no outside events to relate to them. Thus, Sugar has no idea how many meetings go by before the Queen tells Sugar her real name. It surprises her, when it happens. Sugar has never thought to wonder what the Queen’s real name is. To tell the truth, it didn’t previously occur to Sugar that the Queen had a real name at all. But she does: Vader Eloha. It is a beautiful name, Sugar thinks. After the Queen has left, Sugar whispers it to herself alone in the basement, like a chant or a prayer.

Even so, she struggles to call the Queen by it in person. It feels wrong, somehow. It is partly, perhaps, because of the differences in their stations, a queen and a commoner, but it is also because Sugar has no gift of equal value to offer; Sugar is the only name she has. She hasn’t done anything to earn the queen’s secret, so perhaps it’s best not to acknowledge that she has been given it. The queen gently tries to correct Sugar at first when Sugar refers to her as “Your Majesty” or some such thing, but Sugar can’t quite get out of the habit, and eventually the Queen stops trying, which gives Sugar the uncomfortable feeling that she’s failed somehow.

One day, something--perhaps particular boredom, perhaps frustration at the one-sidedness of their conversations, perhaps something else--prompts Sugar to ask, “Do you dance?”

“Of course,” the Queen says. “Would you like to?”

And so they dance--really dance, not fight, though Sugar knows the Queen can do that too, better perhaps than Sugar can despite her apparent fragility. The Queen wraps her arms around Sugar’s waist and they waltz to an imagined music. The Queen’s movements are slow and graceful; her hands are soft and warm, and she smells like something that Sugar can’t place, something that isn’t meat or metal or plastic or smoke, but seems so familiar nonetheless.

When they finish, the Queen says, “Thank you.”

“For what?” says Sugar, surprised, off-guard.

“I haven’t danced in a long time,” says the Queen. “Thank you for giving it back to me.”

“It’s the least I can do,” says Sugar, “for all you’ve done to help me while away the time in this dreary hole.”

“I don’t need repayment for that,” says the Queen.

“Then why...?” Sugar begins, and trails off, uncertain how to continue.

“I’m sorry?” says the Queen.

“Why do you waste so much time down here, with me?” Sugar means to say it lightly, as if it doesn’t matter--and really, it shouldn’t matter--but her voice wobbles nevertheless. “You’re the Queen. You could go anywhere, talk to anyone. You don’t need me. I’m boring, I don’t go anywhere, I don’t do anything. Why do you bother?”

The Queen gently takes Sugar’s hand in hers; one of the tendrils of her hair reaches out to stroke Sugar’s cheek. “Because I try to fill my life with beautiful things,” she says, “and you, my dear Sugar, are beautiful.”

The Queen has no lips with which to kiss, but Sugar does, and for now that’s enough for both of them.


End file.
